


Lipsa

by an_evasive_author



Series: House of Ñolofinwë [3]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Childhood, Childhood Friends, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Bonding, Family Fluff, Other, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:08:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23155330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/an_evasive_author/pseuds/an_evasive_author
Summary: Not all little elves can be as happy and easy to rear as Findekáno; Neither Nolofinwe nor Anairë ever possessed such illusions. But little Turukáno with his quite demanding needs is something else and though they love him dearly, makes them count the Circles when he might be grown enough to communicate beyond screeching.Until then, there is nothing but bearing it patiently. This is...fareasier said then done.
Relationships: Anairë/Fingolfin | Ñolofinwë, Fingon | Findekáno & Maedhros | Maitimo
Series: House of Ñolofinwë [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1633537
Comments: 7
Kudos: 38





	Lipsa

For an eternal being who did not require sleep, Nolofinwe had reached a point where he wished he could sleep through the next millennium or two.

Anairë seemed to mirror that thought, which was nice, for it meant no one would nag him to wake up until he would be ready. Indeed, perhaps instead he would even get a willing companion for his napping instead.

Nelyo, presently playing outside with Finno, could simply take the children with him while his parents hibernated this insanity. And then, in a few centuries, refreshed and willing to give this whole family planning another try, they would be woken to the sight of perfectly raised sons.

It sounded so easy and sensible to the rest-deprived mind dragging itself along with the skin of its proverbial teeth.

Disappointed with the world from the moment he had been evicted from his snug first home into a place that was too big, too loud and far too scary to be worth dealing with, Turukáno had been quite busy announcing his grievances from the moment he had been brought home.

Turukáno could hardly help himself, young as he was. And though only on his second child, he thought himself, in this particular topic sophisticated enough to be reasonable.

A baby acted not with malicious intent and Nolofinwe could not be cross with one so utterly subjected to their most basic of instincts. And if that instinct was to scream at anything and everything, declaring unhappiness, then that was what needed to be tolerated.

It made the noise no less grating, however. But being unable to soothe his son from whatever it was that upset him so, that hurt in a way sore ears never could.

* * *

“Quite the lungs he has there,” Arafinwe said, summoned from whatever space he dwelt when out of Nolofinwe's sight, and cared not that his brother had not heard any of it. Indeed Turukáno had reached a volume rivalling that of one of the golden trumpets that announced the royal family preceding official appearances, it felt like.

Perhaps Arafinwe himself had gone deaf the moment he had stepped into the room. That was also a possibility. Or simply willing to trade whatever it was that had made him seek refuge here with the chaos that was Nolofinwe's abode.

“Yes,” Anairë agreed, “He has been practising.”

The fact that Nolofinwe did not, in fact, wonder why his little brother who should have been off receiving tutoring and instead only blinked blearily at him was proof enough that Turukáno's inconsolable tantrum had left its marks.

“Now, there there,” Arafinwe said and flipped Turukáno over before lifting him up. “Whatever is the matter, hm? Misplaced toy? Gas? You can tell me.”

And Turukáno, though clearly unhappy with something --always unhappy with something-- now squished into his uncle's arms as he was, yawned and promptly fell asleep. Happily drooling on Arafinwe's sleeve, it was as if there had never been anything wrong at all.

“Oh, that is unfair in every sense,” Nolofinwe said and the outrage was kept at a perfectly civil whisper. Nothing, not even the fact that his brother had waltzed in here and done what no else had done with such ease, would make Nolofinwe wake the child on his own volition.

“I do not care,” Anairë said and looked ready to either fall to her knees and profusely thank her brother-in-law or simply fall over in general. “I do not care. He sleeps. He _sleeps_ and he shall sleep until he does not and I intent to use every heartbeat of quiet for something else but pray that it _stops_. Because it stopped. _It stopped_ , Nolofinwe.” She shook him at the shoulder she had grabbed. Just the one, the other she had not managed to find in her excitement.

Nolofinwe found the sudden silence deafening and his ears twitched from the phantom echoes of his bawling son.

Clearly, the line to insanity had grown thin for the both of them. How concerning, he had hardly even noticed.

Anairë nudged her husband, tried to at least, nearly missed and instead fell against him where she remained.

“You look awful, the both of you,” Arafinwe said smoothly, with Turukáno comfortably draped along the curve of his arm and it stood to reason that, much like Turukáno, he acted not with malicious intend.

Even if he had, at this point Nolofinwe was willing to simply let all of it slide. Had Arafinwe asked for his crown, not that he would have needed another, Nolofinwe would have given it freely.

“Thank you,” Anairë wheezed in some half-semblance of consciousness. It would be the very last and closest time she would come to a coherent sentence in this cycle of what could be described, in the strictest sense, as awake.

“Have you considered taking a nap? Possibly a very long one? Or does that constitute as sleep? Whichever it is, perhaps you should have some of it,” Arafinwe suggested softly and already had started to subtly nudge them both towards the door to the bedroom.

“I thought about it; Fantasized over it. But alas, some things are impossible to achieve,” Nolofinwe said and sighed even as he nearly crashed into the doorframe and instead bounced off roughly. Most of his conscious thought had been overtaken by the overabundant need to simply remain standing, if not upright. Also, breathing, which had swiftly turned from a simple reflex to a wilful act one needed to think carefully about.

“Don't be like that, he seems tired out now.” Arafinwe smiled, “Go to sleep? You won't miss much, I don't think.” And before there could be another pitiful attempt at looking confident, composed and not at the edge of some manner of collapse from Nolofinwe, Arafinwe took control over the situation by _ordering_. “Go to bed, the both of you.”

Nolofinwe did not argue further. He turned and balanced against the sudden onset of vertigo that made the room spin in lazy circles.

There was a _bed_ , which struck Nolofinwe as an odd way to pronounce S _alvation_ , and then there was very little else to see for he had fallen forward and did not rise again. Instead he looked as if someone had spilled him onto the mattress, all tangled and utterly uncaring that he was strewn over the bed quite askew.

Anairë, the last vestiges of her being crumbling, tried to say something and managed a half-muttered string of drivelling nonsense before, she too, was claimed by exhaustion, fell back into the pillows and snored.

And Arafinwe, still aglow with the warm, proud knowledge that he had taken control of the situation and wrangled his family members successfully to bed, now stood in the room and was uncertain how to proceed.

Oh well.

* * *

Not all members of House Nolofinwe slept. Findekáno, stalwart and also blessed with uninterrupted sleep, sat proud on his picnic blanket with Nelyo.

“Turu is quiet,” Nelyo noted after a while. Neither one had noticed the sudden absence of Turukáno's wailing right away. “I didn't think he would ever stop.”

“I don't think he likes me much,” Findekáno confessed because Nelyo could be trusted with such weighty topics. And who better to confide in than another older brother. Arguably, an older brother who had siblings that actually seemed to enjoy their presence...

“He's a baby,” Nelyo said simply, nodded sagely and smiled. “He'll be great fun when he's a little older. But when they are that little they don't like anything except sleeping and eating.”

“He doesn't like that either.” Findekáno certainly could not remember a time where Turukáno had not been in some state of inconsolable unhappiness. Perhaps he was simply not doing very well as an older brother; He knew of no way to help Turukáno, after all.

Findekáno who had wished to make friends with his little brother, had found himself at the receiving end of more than one raging tantrum by simply being in the vicinity.

In an effort to distract himself, he turned back to the toys Nelyo had brought with him. Two sticks made from bend wire and a shallow dish filled with soapy water.

Findekáno had, in contrast, not quite achieved as much success as his cousin, yet the lack of bubbles on his part hardly deterred him. Instead he dunked the little wire back into the dish and blew through it with, if anything, even greater conviction.

The flimsy film ripped apart by his mighty efforts and drops of soapy water sprayed over the lawn, the blanket and Nelyo who had ill-chosen this moment to offer encouraging words and turned fully around to face his cousin.

“Finno!” Nelyo called and regretted this at once as he swallowed some of what could have been perfectly fine bubbles.

Findekáno stopped and stared, first at his cousin and then at the stick clutched firmly in his hand, “It's not working, Nelyo...” he informed morosely and dunked it back into the little dish.

Nelyo wiped his mouth and found this helped very little against the biting bitterness. He grabbed for something to drink. “I can see that,” he agreed when the taste of soap had been washed down.

“It's because it's all bend: See?” Findekáno informed and held out his own instrument. Indeed, it was not perfectly round any longer. Not like it had been when Fëanáro had twisted it around a cup to have the diameter seamless and symmetrical.

Instead it looked rather as if someone had, in a moment of carelessness, sat down on it and then, under threat of inconsolable misery, blackmailed their older cousin into trying to _fix_ it right this instant.

Nelyo's adamant efforts had unfortunately done nothing to improve its performance, Findekano had found out rather quickly. “Can I have yours?”

“That won't change anything,” Nelyo said with the endless patience of one who had been accosted with such ideas before. But he did not hesitate long before handing over his own wire and continuing effortlessly with the other one.

Findekáno, faced with the undeniable prove that indeed it was his technique that lacked, found his interest and enthusiasm wane. His face, and ears, fell dejectedly even as bubbles floated prettily around them. Nothing went as it was supposed to and that was more than a little bit distressing.

Nelyo reached out to pull his crestfallen cousin closer, before any misery could ruin what had been a perfectly fine and fun outing thus far.

“I have an idea,” Nelyo said and Findekáno felt the faint stirrings of hope at the words. It was so very nice to have Nelyo, smart Nelyo who always knew what to say, as a friend.

* * *

Arafinwe hummed and his ears wiggled in delight at the sound of his nephews playing outside. _That_ promised to be quite a lot more fun than standing here with a sleeping Turukáno flopped over in his arms.

Not that his nephew wasn't perfectly adorable, yet he was not much good to play with in this state. Arafinwe wanted playmates, partners in crime, not so much responsibilities that came from child-rearing.

He nuzzled his tiny nephew when Turukáno snorted a little in his sleep and kicked out weakly before falling still again.

Arafinwe so dearly wanted to play outside and cause a little mischief... But he could hardly leave the child alone, he did not need to be a parent to know that little ones were not terribly good at

Why, it just so happened that there were not one but _two_ elves also presently sleeping and was it not healthy to bond over shared hobbies? Most assuredly.

Arafinwe carefully picked his way through their sleeping chamber, drawing the heavy curtains closed as he passed them. Not that it truly mattered, with every elf but him utterly passed out, and placed Turukáno in his tiny bassinet next to Anairë's side of the mattress. Turukáno burbled once, yawned heartily and resumed his rest undisturbed, effectively raising the number of sleeping occupants to three.

Satisfied, Arafinwe kissed his nephew's tiny brow, threw the discarded blanket over Nolofinwe and Anairë as he left and clicked the door hut behind him when he stepped out. There, no crying from anyone present, neat and efficient. Why, he _was_ rather good at this, it seemed.

But that could wait, other things were more important.

Off he was, to lead his nephews down the path of mischief-making and cake raiding down in the royal kitchens, for there was now no one there to stop him. The servants would never and whatever member of the family might have stalked the hallways could be easily evaded when one knew where the passages were.

He climbed through the tall window next to the door because he could --the very best of reasons-- and watched what Nelyo and Findekáno were doing, leaning against the windowsill. That was usually a good first step to any outing. Read the room and test the waters, engage if the prospects looked promising and fun and boldly flee if they did not.

They had taken both wires and twisted it into a single one, large enough to allow for truly monstrous, lumpy bubbles. They wobbled and drifted lazily over the lawn, like hulking, mindless beasts too heavy to be swept away by the breeze.

How very smart.

Having such clever elves as his accomplices would make the servants of the kitchen tell tales of horror.

Arafinwe giggled at the sight of them trailing long banners of bubbles behind them and made to see if his well-behaved nephews were up for a little harmless roguery.


End file.
